Emotional Structures (Working Title): Chapter 1Jan 07 '03 Write an essay on this topic.The Bottom Line This story may be controversial, I'm not sure. Now... this story may pose a few problems. You see, it has to do with 9/11. The idea for this story came from a night that I worked at one of those evil call centres which phone you to do surveys and the like. This survey had to do with vacation in Prince Edward Island, Canada (where I live), and I was talking to a person who said that his family had planned on going to PEI, but could not, as the events of 9/11 happened about a couple days before the trip, and since he worked for defense, obviously all the plans were broken. So I had the idea to write a story about a family in a similar situation. I tend not to get too sappy with my stories, however, and tend to stray into cynical and/or dark thoughts..... so later on in this story I touch on some dark issues. That's why I'm afraid of the reaction. All I can say is that no misunderstanding or deliberate outrage is intended. For now, I'm going to post the first portion of the story, which is probably not the more troublesome section, this evening. If the reaction is somewhat positive, I'll probably post the rest of it tommorrrow. I also stink at titles, so if you can come up with a better one, tell me. 10:30 PM. September 10. 2001. Joanna marked an X over the number, printed on the desktop calendar on top the kitchen table, before switching off the lamps and lights in the kitchen as well as in the living room. She proceeded to the bedroom, where her husband was already in bed, skimming through a number of brochures for the Canadian Maritimes. Richard and Joanna had booked a vacation for the region, and chose a road trip to the area. The two of them received a couple of weeks vacation from their respective jobs, and decided they’d use that time to take the scenic tour of the land between their home of New York State and the unclaimed lands of New Brunswick, Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island. It would be a nice, pleasant drive, across the New England states, as long as they didn’t get stuck in some Boston traffic jam. Best to avoid that unfortunate detour ....... “So how’s mother?”, Richard smiled. “She’s not your mother, how lucky are you?”, she politely jibed, as she withdrew herself from her daytime clothes. “At least you don’t have to try with all of your patience to get her to check her blood sugar at least once in a while!” “Still stubborn about that, huh?” “Yea, it’s a bit... a bit frustrating.....”, as she put on her nightgown. “I mean... she should be doing this everyday. That’s the rule, isn’t it? But she will not.....” “Why? I suppose...... because of the pain, I would gather.” “yea, yea, exactly. I feel that I can’t do anything about it.....”, Joanna’s mouth was murky. “I’m useless in this task. She’s going to be the way she is... nothing I do or say will change this. It’s futile.” She gracefully settled onto her side of the bed, while Richard distractingly folded the brochures. “I... don’t know how to make this any better for you.”, he replied. “Well, I can say with much pride that I convinced her to let me check it for her..... but really, I guess this is coming from someone without diabetes... but it doesn’t seem like too much of a trial to use the glucose meter. You don’t have to do it on your fingers anymore.. the needles very tiny, and just grabs a miniscule drop of blood. A little prick of your skin is better than allowing your illness to damage you without even realizing it!” “Have you ever tried using those meters?”, he asked, inquisitively. Joanna grinned curiously. “Whatever do you mean? I don’t have diabetes, why would I need to do such a thing.” “Well.... just pinch yourself with that little metal needle, rupture one of your veins once with it... and then think of doing that same thing once, twice, three times a day.”, he said. “Who’d want to put up with that?” “Oh, Richard!”, she scoffed. “Taking her side!? I mean, she’s my mother! I don’t.... I don’t want to lose her! I want her to enjoy life! I don’t want this -- thing -- to bother her. “ “You can’t control that..... if that’s how she wants to deal with it, that’s just the way she is.....” “Yes.”, pausing, as her face became sullen. “Perhaps you’re correct.” Joanna then slid into a resting position. “Anyway, I’m thinking that it would be better for Erica to stay with her aunt, rather than with mom. I don’t think that mom would be up to watching Erica for two weeks..... not at her age.” As Joanna lay on her back, she noticed that Richard still remained in his sitting position, as if he weren’t ready to go to sleep. “Hey,”, tugging at his forearm, gently. “Are you planning to sleep in that position this evening?” He looked at her, and gave her a delayed grin of foolishness. “Actually.... I’m trying to see what it would be like to sleep sitting up. If I do it this way... it’d take less time and effort to get out of bed in the morning!” He began to match his wife’s demeanor, settling into a resting position, moving closer to her frame. “Sure, every morning, it’d only save me about half a second.... but just think, over the course of a year or so, I’d have gained about two or three minutes... to do.... well, anything!” Joanna smiled wickedly. “Giving me longer and more passionate kisses, I suppose!” “No, I was thinking of spending more time in the shed with my tools, actually... whatever gave you that idea?”, he asked, deadpan. “You’re lucky I’m not some emotional teenager, or else I’d swat you over the head with my pillow.”, she said after a warm laugh. “But.... seriously....”, she asked softly, “.... you seem to be distracted. A little antsy. What..... what’s wrong.....” “Hmmm..... not sure.”, he said. “I suppose it’s because of the vacation. I haven’t had one in so long, you know! I don’t think I can handle it.” Joanna snickered warmly. “Just think, though. No five hour traffic jams, no smog, no ugly architecture. Just a totally natural, organic experience. Look at those brochures. Nice, heavy, green leaves on the trees. Lovely blue sky. Just talking about this makes the air I breath feel more crisp and clean ...... it’d be wonderful. There’s nothing to worry over.” “I know... but, I guess, I’m so used to just going to my job, doing my duty... that I feel guilty about taking two weeks off. Funny, isn’t it???” “Well.......”, empathizing, “... not really, I suppose. But life’s too short to worry about missing two weeks from work. I think this is going to be..... a wonderful trip!” Her body subtly writhed with unhidden joy. “Oh... I know. I’ll probably forget all about it once we cross the border into Canada. It’ll be great....”, Richard admitted. “I’m just so painfully devoted to my job, what can I do?” “You’re not married to your work, though, Richard, “, she joked, “........ I can live with your adulterous indiscretions, I’m progressive enough --- for a Republican”, she teased. “---- but never dump me to shack up with that mistress... or I’ll be after you for everything you’ve got.” “You’ve got it, Jo.”, pressing his nose against hers. “Two weeks, just me and you.......” “..... that’s all I ask!”, she smiled. “..... wonderful......”, he grinned. “Well, I suppose we better go to sleep......” “Yea... or something like that.......”, she jested, preparing to kiss him good night........ 7:00 am. September 11, 2001. Joanna and Richard were already awake, having gotten ready for their respective jobs. Actually, Joanna was the only one who was planning to go anywhere. Richard woke up at this time, due to force of habit. But old habits were difficult to fight off. Richard was a cop. A traffic cop. Not always a glamourous job. Some cops who investigate the troublesome realm of the highway do get recognition, but that’s usually reserved for an episode of America’s Wildest Police Videos, where a shattered headlight ends up becoming a dangerous speed chase across the area, as well as a few neighboring states. Richard, on the other hand, was a mundane traffic cop. Patrolling this lazy suburb, where only impatient speeders and fretful tailgaters provided the excitement. ....... six chocolate-glazed doughnuts and a large coffee, two sugars, no cream, please....... A walking stereotype, wasn’t he? He’d bet that, when Erica was younger, she’d tell her friends that her father’s job duties included dipping plain doughnuts into steaming java. And yet here he was last night, in bed with Joanna, haunted about the prospect of missing two weeks of this. As if there was something he would be missing if he did. Joanna was a teacher from a school further downtown. She had what was at the very least, an equally stressful job. She had to deal with equally impatient subjects.... a bunch of nine-year old kids. She had to ensure that these children would sit still long enough to focus on her entire lesson, and retain at least one critical fact at the end of the day. She taught at this school for more than a decade. She didn’t recall the exact moment when she felt persuaded her to enter the profession. She did have some good teachers, some good role models, during her youth. She would make her feelings known amongst her family....... ......... when I grow up, I’m going to be a teacher, just like Mrs. Grey. It would be so fun!.......... Her life had not changed since she became a teacher, since she moved to this neighborhood. She never considered changing certain aspects of her life... she never even thought of transferring to another grade level. Fourth grade was sufficient work for her. She knew that the higher grades were much more intense. Teenagers were tough to control. Many wouldn’t even bother showing up. The rest would sit around, talk, talk, talk, talk, completely oblivious to the person at the front of the room, unwilling to enrich themselves, whittling their lives away......... At least nine year olds were more willing to appease the teacher. Joanna didn’t have to witness the inevitable tragedy when goodhearted children became unruly adolescents....... . Erica, the child of the house, had slept in until the much later hour of 7:15, not having the need to drive in impossible traffic for an hour. She was ten years old, and in Grade five; very much the typical child, in that she needed a slight bit of prodding ...... “Did you brush your teeth yet?”, Joanna asked. “Yes....”, she said, in a monotone. .............don’t bother me all the time with that stuff........... “I don’t feel like going to school today.”, Erica jibed, hoping to draw out an emotional response from her mother. “Why not, now? Did you not finish your homework?”, Joanna queried. “Well, I did most of it!”, she replied, defiantly. “Enough that the teacher will be happy.” “Erica!”, she bellowed, frustratingly. “What do you have left to do???” “Just a couple math problems, nothing that would be hard, nothing that would take a lot of time.”, she smiled, attempting to put a radiance to this situation. “Oh... okay then... finish those questions on the bus, you hear?”, she lectured. She hoped that Erica would have the sense to actually complete her work on the bus..... “Yes, Mommy.”, said Erica, in a falsely approving mode. ...... but Joanna couldn’t control what her daughter did when she left the house, beyond her mother’s sight. Erica had three notepads, one for each subject -- spelling, English, and Math. She had her spelling book, her math book, and a novel that she was required to read before the week’s end. She neatly placed the books and texts into one pile, and shoved them into her kit bag. Erica wasn’t particularly enamored with her schoolwork. It was frequently a trial to finish her homework -- fifteen minutes became thirty, thirty minutes became an hour, an hour became two. Homework was a problem in the Moore household. Two hours is a lengthy time for anyone, and especially for a ten year old. Two hours was a punishment, and it was repeated nightly. What did she do to deserve this? The work was growing increasingly more difficult, and she needed more time to decipher those academic quandaries. Joanna herself never had such tough experiences when she was in Grade Five. Erica really did suffer. Many nights, Joanna would shake her head, amazed that children were being asked these questions, being asked to read these books. Erica’s attitude was to build a wall around her frustration. She’d do only what her energies permitted and then settle back into her comfort zone, whether it was in front of the TV, or on the phone with her friends. ....... Trenna’s parents let her not finish her homework. They don’t like how much homework she has. They..... “boycott” homework. I think it means that they hate homework....... Joanna would argue with her -- she was a teacher, she couldn’t very well accept her daughter’s refusal of intellectual exercise, while telling her own students what to do in class or for homework. ...... I’m not Trenna’s mom. Finish your homework before you have to go to bed, please....???? Inside, Joanna knew that her daughter’s frustration was real. Joanna had no difficulty with understanding her daughter’s curriculum, naturally, being herself an agent of the school system. Yet, twenty-some years ago, it took a lot longer for her to have to understand it......... “You’re not going to miss us when we go away, are you?”, Richard asked, as Erica put her shoes and coat on. “No way!! It’s going to be so boring for you!”, Erica smirked. “All you can do is golf! And eat lobster! Ewww!!! Bor-r-r-ing!!!”, in a show of dismissal. “Well, at least we wont’ feel guilty about laving you behind.”, Joanna concluded. “Well...”, letting her voice trail off in a note of regret. “I could’ve went... if I could have missed a week of school.” Erica’s parents laughed. “Well, then you’ll just have to spend all your time finishing up that homework you say you can’t finish.”, Joanna said. “MOM!!!!”, Erica growled, as if she apparently believed her. Joanna wrinkled her nose in a teasing shape. “We’ll bring you something from Canada, okay. You’d like that at least?”, Richard said. “Oh, thanks, Dad. Something really nice.” Surely, there was something besides golf balls and lobster claws that could be safely returned to New York. Moments later, outside, the school bus broke through the horizon. “Bye, Mom, Bye, Dad”, as Erica exited from the front door........... ......... Erica walked to the curb, watching the bus slowly approaching her driveway. Another day at school. Another day in the same old class, with the same old subjects. She was a bit nervous about the fact that her parents were leaving on vacation. She really didn’t know what Eastern Canada had to offer... other than the fact that it had lots of golf courses and lobster restaurants, according to all the bright colored pictures on the brochures. Erica never ate lobster before. And golf was for old people. She didn’t want to go on a vacation in which she wandered around an empty landscape watching her dad and mom assault golf balls with a metal rod. The city of New York was much more compelling to a child. It was a vacation, only less than an hour from her house. At least here, you have neat shops, with all sorts of cool things, nice outfits, neat toys, all the CD’s that you could buy. There’s a zoo, there’s actual sports like baseball, football, hockey... there’s actually stuff to do around here! New York City was awesome. Canada’s a different country. What would Canada have? Especially, those places like Prince Edward Island -- it’s just a little island. Do they have electricity? Running water? She’s heard stuff about places like that. People often joke -- or are they joking -- that Canadians live in igloos. Where do they live in the summer then???? Manhattan -- now that’s a vacation........ But it would be better if she could travel across the city with her parents. She knew that she’d be staying at her aunt’s for the two weeks. But, instinctively, she felt nervous about her parents’ potential absence. The bond between child and parent was difficult to break.... especially if one of the players could not locate words to express why the emotional and psychic bonds would be so hard to sever. She recalled that even the minor act of taking the bus every morning used to be a painful experience. The first day of school, Grade One, she was in tears. No longer was she overseen by one of her parents on a 24 hour basis. She was to be separated from them for six hours! Every day! Five years later, and she’s much used to the idea of leaving home for school. But two weeks away from home..... daunting. But she’d never tell anybody that......... “Hi, Trenna.” Erica was on the bus, sitting beside her friend. “Hi...” “So how are you ?” “Very good, as always.”, reaching for a witty comment. “Mom told me to do my homework on the bus,”, Erica began, her eyes fluttering in sarcasm. “But... I don’t think so!” “You have to have that homework done!” “Oh, it’s okay... it’s only three or four questions. It doesn’t matter.” “Yes it does!”, almost betraying her grin. “Oh well, maybe for you... but your mommy doesn’t make you finish... so why does it matter to you?” The two girls giggled. ....... nevertheless, guilt will slowly gnaw at Erica’s memory for most of the day....... “When’s your parents leaving to Canada?” “Friday.” “Cool! Where are you staying?” “Oh, probably my aunt.... maybe my grandmother.” “Maybe you can stay with me! Wouldn’t that be cool?” “Mom wouldn’t let me.....”, Erica said. “I think that she would say that it would be a school night and that I wouldn’t get my homework done.” “Not on the weekend, though!” “Okay, I’ll ask her!”, she nodded assuredly. “Hi.....”, said Danny quietly, as he walked past the two girls. “Hi, Danny.....”, they greeted Danny had just stepped on the bus. He walked slowly, silently, his head down, touchingly shy. He had to sit three seats away from Trenna and Erica, as the closest seats were already filled. “Maybe Danny can come over too!”, Trenna said. “I’ll ask him, and I’ll ask a whole bunch of others! We’ll have a big party!!” “Awesome! But I thought boys weren’t allowed in your house! That’s what you told me.......you said boys are yucky!”, she smiled. The two giggled in a conspiring tone. “Oh well... he’s o-kay!!!”, Trenna smiled. “That’s all he is... just okay!” Erica turned around, letting her eyes search for Danny, to see if he heard any of the girl’s words. She gave a warm smirk in his direction. Joanna was properly prepared to venture out into the morning air, to travel to school. “See you later, Richard.”,before politely kissing him on the side of his mouth. “Bye.” “So what are your exciting plans for this morning?”, she grinned. “Moping about and feeling sorry for yourself?” Richard scoffed, playfully. “Oh, quiet, you!” Joanna laughed. “Well... it has been a while since I’ve been able to lay low and watch TV all morning. So perhaps I’ll be able to get over my moping about and enjoy that......” “Great! But don’t watch CNN though. Stick to the Fox News Channel..... CNN’s just a bunch of left-wing propaganda.” “You know that for a fact, now?” , he asked, sardonically. “Yea, Fox News, on the other hand, is right-wing propaganda....... comfort food for minds who can’t tolerate any other varieties.” “I’ve always known you to be a somewhat picky person when it comes to food.” “It’s my nature, Richard..... I’m not complaining!”, she smiles. “I think I’ll just stick to TNN and TV-Land during my vacation.”, Richard replied. “Nostalgic propaganda, for a time that never was........ good idea.”, Joanna cracked. “See you later.” Joanna quietly glided outside, and felt the warm sun upon her cheeks The sky was blue, the air was clean, and gentle about her body. She felt that it would be a nice, ordinary morning. The ambiance of the suburbs, about a half hour or so away from the noise of Manhattan, was soft and pleasant. Laughter and squeals from the children, humming from the modestly-aged vehicles, and an even more enticing murmuring from the newer cars. It was a much more lovely environment than the traffic jams further in town. Her car was her sanctuary when she had to leave the tranquility of her neighborhood. Every day, she’d drive to and from work, with only her private thoughts as company. No need to speak. No need to justify herself to anyone. No need to defend her beliefs. This routine was maintained for more than a decade. The cars she drove had been replaced over the years, but the rest of the apparatus was made up of the same parts. She traveled on the same route, to the same school, to the same class. Her lifestyle changed not a bit. She didn’t want to debate her faithful consistency with anyone. Maybe there was a time, a number of years ago, when she would lie awake at two in the morning, thinking to herself that there must be more than this. That there needs to be something that would spice up my life. But she has forgotten all of that now. Her job, her family... those filled the recesses of the mind that she voluntarily chose to utilize. Joanna meandered her car around the twisting boulevard. The grass on either side of her path was a luminous green, each blade painted in a perfectly even stroke. The pavement in front of her was minimal in its roughness and easy in its comfort against the tires of her car. The people she observed on her excursion were familiar -- everything about their facial expressions , their mannerisms, their genetic code, was safe, comfortable, typical. She has seen very few surprises during the decade that she lived in these neighborhood. Her life was a ten-year rut -- but she didn’t object, at least not vividly. She never followed through on any random desire to change her life or any desire to broaden her horizons -- maybe it was a good thing, perhaps not........ Turning on the car radio to the local news and talk station. American politics. The deep and heavy subject of Gary Conduit. It was riveting. Another guilty politician, who hides behind evasions and linguistic tricks. Sounds familiar. But at least Clinton was a Democrat, so I could make fun of him... without feeling like a traitor to our own party...... Other subjects were addressed. Gun control. Campaign finance reform. But all people would remember, months from now, at the end of the year 2001, was whether Gary Conduit got into Chandra Levy’s pants, or whether Chandra met a horrible end, by whomever could not live with her knowledge of.... of, whatever type of secrets Condit may have harbored. John Macain and his campaign reform crusade wasn’t nearly as sexy as this saga. Even if Joanna did hope for a Macain presidency. She would have voted for MaCain if she was able to. She was a registered Republican, and picked MaCain for the primaries. Nevertheless George W. Bush became the candidate............ When she was faced with the presidential ballot, in November of 2000, she knew she had to create a convincing facade. She couldn’t ignore the paper that was in front of her, now that she had pencil in hand, in preparation to attack the ballot, to forever wound it with her distinctive mark. But which part of the body was the most vulnerable? ........ she ended up feeling compelled to vote for the Republican on the card. Either that or Al Bore. The state of American politics. Either a president’s son or a president’s straight man. What a thrilling choice. That night came the Florida debacle. Bore won. Then Bush Junior won. Then nobody won. The Supreme Court gave Bush the presidency. Joanna was satisfied. She was not a Democrat, so she had every right to be accepting of the new regime....... ........ it’s perhaps a little closer to how I feel than a Democratic presidency........ She wasn’t an extreme slice of the conservative pie, by any means. She was a Republican by virtue of habit. Her family had often voted Republican so she did as well. She wasn’t the sort of Republican that believed that women ought to stay at home, or that they ought to go to church 24/7, or even that feminists usurped the sanctity of the family..... not fully, at least, although she didn’t know many Republicans who felt much differently from her anyway. Even if people in the media, and in the Democratic party, like to insist otherwise. ......... although abortion makes me particularly queasy........... She was never much in favor of the entire process. She saw abortion as the easy way out for some.... those people who were sloppy about their hormonal urges. And even if character had nothing to do with it --- a life was being destroyed. She realized that Roe Vs. Wade was still a dominant force in the law -- but she quietly hoped that, one of these days, some course of action would undermine that ugly pronouncement. ..... less misery for those who can’t speak out...... About Bush, she had some doubts about him. She only voted for him because he was the Republican, but over the months, she wondered if perhaps he was a little too stiff for the job. He often sounded too much out of his depth within shouting distance of a podium. He seemed like a swell guy when away from the formal stuff, but being a swell, ordinary guy is a lot different from being the President of the United States.............. Chapter 2 http://www.epinions.com/content_3049955460  |
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